


It Started In Potions Class

by fire_and_brimstone666



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Amortentia, Hogwarts Sixth Year, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-18
Updated: 2018-01-23
Packaged: 2019-02-04 01:14:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12760104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fire_and_brimstone666/pseuds/fire_and_brimstone666
Summary: Just some slow, sixth-year Drarry for you all.





	1. Amortentia

**Author's Note:**

> Harry will never admit, during one Potions class in which they are brewing Amortentia, that his sample has a distinct edge of Draco Malfoy to it....

"Out of the way, Potter. You're making the entire room look untidy". 

It was only a sharp glare from Hermione and Ron's hand on his arm that held Harry back from decking the pretentious prat that was Draco Malfoy into the middle of next week. Instead, he just huffed and shrugged off his best friends' hand before taking a seat at the back of the Potions classroom. Harry noticed with much irritation that Malfoy's scent was still clinging to him from where the blonde git had pushed past him in the doorway. He surreptitiously sniffed the left arm of his Gryffindor robe, inhaling the scent of what appeared to be peppermint and fresh parchment. The sound of Ron clattering down behind the bench next to him shocked Harry out of what he was doing, and with an embarrassed grunt he tore the robe off and shoved it under his seat. Before Harry could question too much about what he'd just done, Professor Slughorn shuffled to the front of the room and the sixth year students all fell silent. There was a steaming cauldron in front of the Professor, which Harry had noticed on the way in held a light blue mixture that was slightly glowing. Slughorn collected a small vial of the potion and held it up for the class to see. 

"As many of you may remember from last lesson, I introduced you to two new types of potion," Slughorn began, "Felix Felicis, more commonly referred to as Liquid Luck of course, and the one I hold in my hand now."

Slughorn paused, the vial still being held aloft, clearly expecting everyone to remember what it was. Harry tried to cast his mind back to the last lesson but he drew a blank, and looking over at Ron he seemed to be having the same problem if the confused frown knitting his eyebrows together was anything to go by. Neither of them needed to be worried however for, as per usual, Harry watched as Hermione's hand flew up into the air from nearer the front of the class. 

"That one is Amortentia potion, Professor", Hermione answered before being called upon, "A powerful love potion, and one that is said to acquire the scent of whatever attracts the person smelling it". 

"Entirely correct, Miss Granger", Slughorn informed her with a smile, "Ten points to Gryffindor. Now, as with last lesson, I am going to ask each of you to attempt to brew a perfect Amortentia potion and, again as with the last class we had together, whichever student's potion is brewed closest to perfection will be rewarded with their own sample," Slughorn said, brandishing the potion for the class to see before setting it down on the desk, "Hurry along now, you have the rest of the hour. Instructions will be found on page 128 of your books. May the best student win!" 

Harry flicked to the right page in his copy of Advanced Potion Making, and went to the cupboard to collect the ingredients listed. Before long, and with considerable help from the Half-Blood Prince, Harry was stirring in the final ingredients to his Amortentia and ladeling some in to a cup. Professor Slughorn made his way round to Harry, leaned down to inspect the potion, and straightened up with a pleased twinkle in his eye. 

"Merlin's beard, Potter!" Slughorn exclaimed happily, "Another perfect success. Well, fair is fair I suppose. One vial of Amortentia potion for you. Good job, my boy! We'll make a potions prodigy of you yet!"

Grinning from Slughorn's praise, Harry took the vial and stowed it safely in his bag along with his potions book, sending up a silent 'thank you' to whoever the Half-Blood Prince could be. Harry caught up with Ron and Hermione in the corridor, and they both started on their way to Transifiguration. 

"I don't know how you're doing it, mate!" Ron laughed, clapping Harry hard on the back, "But it's bloody brilliant. The look on Malfoy's face every time you out-do him in Potions is just priceless!" 

Harry laughed along with Ron, ignoring Hermione's suspicious, and possibly jealous, glares in his direction. The trio were just walking past the open windows that led to the courtyard when a cold wind made Harry realise that he'd left his robe back in Slughorn's class. Harry cursed quietly at his stupidity, and told Ron and Hermione to save him a seat in Transfiguration before he began to double back to the dungeons. 

Harry reached the classroom at a run, out of breath he grabbed the robe from where it had slipped to the floor and put it on, turning to leave and hoping Professor McGonagall wasn't in a bad mood today. A strong waft of peppermint and fresh parchment made Harry pause for a moment, before remembering angrily why he would now smell like Draco bloody Malfoy for the rest of the day. Harry shook out his robe around him in a half-hearted attempt to get rid of the smell, when he realised that the scent was stronger than it had been before. Pressing his robe to his face, Harry looked around the room, wondering where this stronger scent was coming from, or even if the owner of it was still lurking in the dungeons like the creepy Slytherin he was. Harry's eyes fell on his Amortentia potion, it's steaming contents still in it's cauldron on the table. Harry leaned over it and gulped in a breath, and was immediately hit with a face full of Malfoy-scented fumes. Harry stepped back as if the potion had bit him, taking in ragged breaths and shaking his head. No, Harry thought his emerald eyes fixed on the cauldron, there was no way- no chance that his Amortentia was...that it smelled like....No! Harry slammed a lid over the offending contents of the cauldron, and the scent immediately lessened considerably. Still shaking his head in denial, Harry pulled his robe tighter around himself and started to sprint to Transfiguration, definitely not thinking about blonde hair and the smell of peppermint and parchment.


	2. Relocation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was all because Pansy and Ron are terrible at Potions.

"Leave me alone, Pans", Draco bit out for the fifth time that day. The Malfoy heir hadn't managed to get a lot of sleep last night, and his patience was quickly dwindling to nothing under the constant nagging of his best friend. 

"Please, Dray", Pansy whined, clinging onto his arm as they made their way to Potions, "You're the best at Potions in Slytherin, and my grades are dropping. I really need your help. Just one tutor session a week is all I'm after. My parents are going to kill me if they see how badly I'm doing this term". 

Draco heaved a sigh and looked down at the shorter girl currently latched on to his arm. "Fine", Draco finally relented as they walked into the Potions classroom and took their usual seats next to Blaise and Milicent, "But only because I know what your parents can be like". 

"Thank you!" Pansy squealed and kissed him on the cheek, earning on eyeroll from Draco and a snigger from Blaise.

"Yeah, don't mention it," Draco replied, wiping his cheek with the back of his hand elegantly, "Like ever". 

Seemingly satisfied, Pansy finally released her grip on Draco's arm, and the class began. Today they were brewing a simple sleeping potion, but Draco still knew from experience that it was better for himself and Blaise to do the actual brewing and let Pansy read out the instructions. Apparently, as it turned out, Draco wasn't the only student with a problematic partner. He quickly found this out when about halfway through the class a loud bang sounded from the other side of the room, quickly followed by someone groaning in pain. Draco joined the class in looking over in curiosity at the spectacle. 

And what a spectacle it was too!

Near the back of the classroom Draco could see Potter leaning over his Weasley friend, who had evidently managed to explode what should've been a perfectly harmless potion, and who was now covered in said concoction and rolling around on the floor in pain. Draco couldn't make out any obvious bodily harm, but then he supposed he hadn't seen if the ginger git had swallowed any or not. Pushing through the growing crowd of students, Draco watched as Professor Slughorn and Potter picked up the youngest male Weasley and swept quickly out of the classroom with a hasty "Class dismissed!" shouted over the Professor's shoulder. 

"I do so love it when our last class of the week finishes early", Blaise sneered from behind Draco, and they laughed about the look on Weasley's face all the way back to the Slytherin Common Room. Unfortunately, Draco's happiness was short-lived when he felt Pansy grab him as he was about to go up to the boy's dormitory. Draco groaned as he took in her hopeful expression.

"You said you would!" Pansy pouted up at him with the eyes that usually meant she would get her way no matter who she had to kill.

"But right now!?" Draco objected. He watched Pansy fold her arms in defiance, and quickly realised his free afternoon was a lost cause. "Fine", he surrendered, throwing his arms up in despair, "I suppose we better do this in my room, I have better stocked ingredients than you". Draco watched as Pansy bounded up the stairs like an excited puppy, and after running a hand tiredly through his blonde hair, he followed her up.   
*********************************

This had been an absolutely terrible idea, Draco thought as the boys section of Slytherin House ran into the common room. Draco turned around to drag Pansy out of the room that was now heavy with acrid smoke, and slammed the heavy wooden door behind them. Draco rounded on Pansy, who was standing behind him looking sheepishly down at her feet. 

"What part of DO NOT add all the Veela hairs in at once did you not understand, Pans!?" 

"I just forgot Dray, I'm sorry", Pansy mumbled, still not able to meet his eyes. 

Before Draco could continue his angry rant, everyone turned around as Dumbledore, McGonagall and Slughorn entered the Slytherin common room. Their expressions ranged from mischievous curiosity (Dumbledore), to slightly terrifying (McGonagall), to just sheer disappointment (Slughorn). This is going to be fun, Draco thought to himself, as he looked between the three teachers and then stepped forwards to explain.   
**********************************

Draco was angrier than he could remember being since that Granger mudblood had punched him in third year. They couldn't bloody do this! Draco kicked his trunk angrily from where it was sat at the end of one of the beds in the Gryffindor dormitory. The 50 point deduction from Slytherin was understandable, as that had affected both him and Pansy, and they really shouldn't have been brewing Potions outside of class anyway. But this was just too much! 

Apparently, after many hours and many different charms courtesy of Professor Flitwick, it had been decided that only an expert from the Ministry of Magic was going to be able to clear the dense level of smoke that was, for reasons unknown, refusing to clear from the boys Slytherin dorms. Now, that had then presented the problem of having to relocate all the Slytherin boys until the problem could be dealt with and, as the main perpetrator in causing the catastrophe, it had been decided that Draco would have to put up with whatever space was left after everyone else had chosen. In the end, it turned out that the only free bed was Weasley's one in Gryffindor, as he was still in the Infirmary due to his own potions incident earlier that day. 

Which left Draco having to sleep, not only in Gryffindor House, a place where he'd be surprised if he wasn't hexed to death before the end of the day, but also in the same room as Harry fucking Potter. 

"Fuck!" Draco swore as he kicked his trunk again and threw himself on the bed to mentally prepare himself for the inevitable torture that would follow as soon as the Gryffindors returned from the Great Hall for the evening.


	3. Confrontation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This had to be a mistake, Harry reasoned with himself, even as he sprinted up the stone steps leading to Gryffindor Tower, the map was just confused.

Sitting in the Great Hall without Ron or Hermione that evening had been miserable for Harry. Madame Pomfrey had assured Harry that Ron would be out of the Infirmary as soon as possible, and Hermione had decided to stay at Ron’s bedside, leaving Harry on his own with a feeling reminiscent of fifth-year when his two best friends couldn’t sit with him on the Hogwarts Express due to their new Prefect responsibilities. So that had left Harry sitting between Ginny and Neville, silently enduring Ginny’s wide-eyed expression and Neville’s constant stream of Herbology jargon. However, neither had been able to distract Harry from glancing over at the Slytherin table every few minutes, wondering where a certain blond Pureblood had disappeared off to. 

“He’s not going to turn up, Harry”, Ginny sighed from his left, “Apparently, he nearly blew up the boy’s Slytherin dorms”. 

Harry turned his gaze on Ginny, torn between wanting to deny the suggestion that Harry cared at all and his own curiosity. Naturally, his Gryffindor curiosity won out. 

“Malfoy lost control of a potion?” Harry asked, finding it difficult to believe that Malfoy would have let that happen. He was a pretentious arse, but even Harry had to admit that he was exceptional when it came to Potions class. 

Ginny shrugged, clearly already done with the line of conversation and feeling a little put-out that it had taken mentioning Draco Malfoy to win Harry’s attention. 

“I heard that Parkinson had something to do with it too, but Malfoy took most of the hit from the teachers for it.” 

Harry frowned. He’d always just assumed that Malfoy’s first instinct would be to throw anyone under the Night Bus before he got in trouble himself. But, it seemed, Harry’s impression had been wrong, and Malfoy might actually have a degree of redeeming loyalty to him. Harry shifted on the bench and felt the vial of Amortentia potion in his pocket dig in to his thigh, quickly accompanied by the phantom scent of peppermint and parchment. 

Feeling heat rise in his cheeks Harry stood up quickly, cutting off Neville’s monologue about the uses of mandrake root, and made his hasty excuses as he half ran out of the Great Hall. After a few minutes Harry came to a halt in an alcove at the bottom of the steps leading up to Gryffindor Tower. Shaking his head vigorously Harry focussed on steadying his ragged breathing. He was not going to do this. He was not going to let the possibility that his Amortentia may or may not smell like Malfoy mean that he was incapable of thinking of anyone else. In fact, Harry told himself, there’s no reason he should be thinking of Draco Malfoy at all. 

Even as he was telling himself this, Harry could feel his paranoia getting the better of him as he pulled out the Marauder’s Map from inside his robes. 

“I solemnly swear that I am up to no good,” Harry recited as he tapped the end of his wand against the parchment and watched as the now familiar tendrils of ink crawled their way across the page. The raven-haired Gryffindor stashed his wand back into his pocket and opened the map, scanning the Slytherin common room for the name that had been intruding his mind for the past week and a half. Harry frowned when it showed the room empty, and turned his attention to Dumbledore’s office, thinking maybe that Malfoy was still there being reprimanded for his actions. 

Not finding him there either, Harry was just closing the map when he caught sight of something that made his gut wrench. There, in the room marking out the Gryffindor boy’s dormitories, was the name he’d been looking for, clear as day. Harry stared at it, blinking twice and scratching at Malfoy’s name on the parchment, just in case it was some kind of illusion. This had to be a mistake, Harry reasoned with himself, even as he sprinted up the stone steps leading to Gryffindor Tower, the map was just confused. 

Harry had just managed to convince himself of this as he stowed the map away when he entered his dormitory. Harry felt his jaw drop as he froze in the doorway and took in the scene before him in disbelief. Disbelief quickly subsided to anger as he strode across the room to confront the person lazily spread across his best friend’s bed. Malfoy didn’t even have the courtesy to glance up from his book as Harry stood watching him, tapping his toe impatiently as he waited for acknowledgment and an explanation. After a full minute of being ignored, Harry sighed loudly. 

“What are you doing here, Malfoy?” Harry grit out through clenched teeth. 

Slowly, grey eyes lifted to meet Harry’s fierce green ones. Malfoy smirked at Harry’s discomfort and he instantly had to quell the urge to hex the smarmy git into next week.

“Well Potter, I assume you’re not stuck so far up your own arse that you’ve been paying attention to school gossip.”

Harry drew himself up to full height with a low growl and took a step closer to the Slytherin on the bed, who closed his book and laid one long hand on his wand in response. Harry took several deep breathes before the anger had subsided enough for him to speak. 

“I heard all about your little incident Malfoy. But it still doesn’t explain why you're lounging around in my friend’s bed like you own the place.” 

Malfoy rolled his eyes dramatically and lithely got to his feet, crowding into Harry’s space so close that Harry could pick out the bits of blue in the Slytherin’s eyes. 

“Something happened with the potion that Pansy was supposed to be making which has rendered the Slytherin chambers uninhabitable until further notice, Potter. As the main conspirator, it was deemed that I would have last choice as to where I was relocated to until the problem is resolved. Does that make it clearer for you, Chosen One? Or do you need me to draw a diagram?” 

“But why here?” Harry questioned, desperately searching for a way to comprehend the suffering which could not be happening to him right now. “Is there nowhere else free?” 

Malfoy’s eyes flashed dangerously, and Harry stepped unconsciously into a defensive stance as he watched the blond clench and unclench his jaw several times. 

“You think I’m happy about this?” Malfoy hissed aggressively, “You think I wouldn’t rather be literally anywhere else but here if I had a choice in the matter? I have been put here against my wishes, Potter. If there was any other option then I would have thought of it by now, but there isn’t. So, I’m afraid that for once the Golden Boy is just going to have to shut up and endure this until it’s over.” 

Harry glared as Malfoy turned away from the fuming Gryffindor and settled himself back on the bed, opening his book and clearly signalling that the conversation was at an end. Harry just stood at the side of the bed, watching Malfoy read while he tried to think of something, anything, that could get them out of this mess. Eventually, Malfoy heaved a heavy sighed and glanced up over the top of his book. 

“If you’d kindly close the door on your way out, Potter. I’m trying to study, and I don’t need any distractions.” 

Harry opened and closed his mouth several times, searching for words that just kept evading him. After a few more seconds of being studiously ignored, Harry stomped noisily across the dormitory, wrenched open the door and paused half-turned back towards the room. 

“Screw you, Malfoy”, Harry eventually managed to sputter out, his anger preventing anything more coherent. 

“Eloquent as ever, Potter”, Malfoy drawled out disinterestedly from behind his book, and Harry forced himself to leave the room before the urge to punch the Slytherin overcame his sense of self-preservation. Although Harry did feel a petty sense of satisfaction when he heard the annoyed sigh float through the door that he’d deliberately left wide open. 

This was going to be a long term.


	4. Snake in the Lion's Den

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was moments such as these, alone and lost in his own thoughts, that all the walls Draco threw up to protect himself were allowed to come down.

Draco gave the door a death-glare before heaving a huge sigh. Why must Potter be so petty and immature all the time? Draco thought as he waved his wand at the door and it slammed shut a little louder than had been strictly necessary. Draco settled back on the bed, a bed that still smelled faintly of Weasley despite Draco’s many apparently futile freshening charms, and turned his attention once again back to his Potions book. It wasn’t until half an hour had passed and Draco read the same sentence for the hundredth time that the Slytherin frowned and snapped the book shut with a final sound that echoed through the now darkening Gryffindor dormitory. 

Draco stood up, stretching limbs that had become hardened with Quidditch practices, and moved over to the window. He had to admit, as he gazed down over the Hogwarts grounds, Gryffindor Tower did allow for a somewhat prettier view than the Slytherin dungeons. Draco’s breath fogged up the glass as he continued staring listlessly out of the window, his gaze moving over the courtyard, to the Forbidden Forest which was dimmed to a mere silhouette in the sunset, and finally to the lake where he could just make out the tentacles of the Giant Squid breaking the glistening surface every few moments. Occasionally, when Draco had been alone in the Slytherin Common Room, he’d stared at the glass panel which showed the bottom of the lake and placed his hand to the cool glass, pressing slightly and wondering what it would be like to just walk through the glass and drift off into the murky depths of the lake, away from everything. 

It was moments such as these, alone and lost in his own thoughts, that all the walls Draco threw up to protect himself were allowed to come down. Only for a few moments, and only away from everyone else, but down they came. Draco wasn’t stupid. As much as he loathed Potter and thought him a show-off that got more attention than he was worth, Draco, unlike a surprising number of others, found that he had believed Potter back in fourth year when the tragedy at the end of the Triwizard Tournament had struck. Unlike Potter’s dense Gryffindor friends, Draco had noticed the Golden Boy become more withdrawn and defensive throughout fifth year. He’d watched as the green-eyed boy had used anger and sarcasm to cover up his pain. And that was when Draco had finally seen Potter, truly seen him, as more than just his Hogwarts nemesis.   
Because Draco was all-too familiar with using anger and snarkiness to mask the true thoughts and feelings brewing underneath. Every time Draco had failed in Quidditch, or been bested in class by Granger, his father had not been subtle in his displeasure. Draco had never hated his father for this, either. Lucius Malfoy, after all, had a reputation to uphold. Draco was a part of that reputation so when he failed, it reflected badly on the whole Malfoy line. 

However, that didn’t mean it hurt any less. 

So, naturally, rather than allow the hurt to rule him, Draco did the only thing that he could. He lashed out. He used cruel words and schemes to mask his own failings. And usually it worked, for a time anyway. But recently, he’d found he was falling back on his sharp tongue more out of habit than as something that was helping him cope. Since the Headmaster had announced to the school that the Dark Lord, Voldemort Draco forced himself to think it, had returned Draco hadn’t failed to notice changes at home. Malfoy Manor had become darker than usual, his parents having secret meetings in his father’s study with shady people that came and went but Draco never had the chance to put a name or face to. 

Draco knew something huge was coming, something that he wasn’t going to be able to ignore with words or hexes. Worst still, Draco got the distinct impression that he was going to be included in all of it sooner rather than later. And he wasn’t ready. He was only sixteen, and he wasn’t ready for whatever darkness had invaded his home.

He was scared.

Draco drew a shuddering breath at this private admittance and clasped together his shaking pale hands. The Malfoy heir continued to stare out of the window at the darkening grounds. The topmost branches of a few trees in the Forbidden Forest rustled suddenly, but Draco saw nothing. Probably the Thestrals, Draco thought aimlessly as he focussed on bringing his breathing back under control. Draco had always been intensely proud of his lineage, and his loyalty to his family first and foremost had never been in question. Not until now, anyway. This was what Draco was so afraid of. The one thing Draco had always been certain of was his family, and the sense of belonging that their Pureblood heritage had given him. But if Voldemort was truly back and Draco’s suspicions of his parent’s allegiance were correct, Draco didn’t think he had it in him to follow in their footsteps. And if that was the case, then he would need help. He’d never doubted that his parents loved him, but if they found that he was unwilling to join them in their ideologies…

Draco shuddered at the possibilities for the end of that dark thought. Before his thoughts could become any more tangled, a high- pitched gasp from behind him had him whirling around, wand poised. Neville Longbottom stood just inside the doorway, clutching what looked like a small cactus with a terrified expression on his face. Draco quickly composed his face in its usual sneer and took one step towards the nervous Gryffindor. Annoyed with himself, Draco noticed that his eyes felt hot and his wand hand was still shaking. 

“A-are you o-okay?”

Draco froze at the unexpected question and stared at Longbottom in disbelief. The other boy, for what it was worth, looked just as startled with his utterance of the question as Draco felt at hearing it, and had taken a step back as if expecting to be hexed. Draco had expected many things when he’d turned to see who had entered the room; angry questioning, fear, disgust at finding a snake in the lion’s den. But not this. Not this… concern. Draco didn’t know what to do with it. He wanted to spit out something sarcastic that would have the Gryffindor running back the way he had come, but Draco didn’t trust his voice not to break with his previous thoughts still running around in his head.   
Instead, Draco did what seemed like the easiest option. He Summoned his cloak and pushed past Longbottom’s startled form, fully intending to find one of the secret passageways his father had told him about and have a small, dignified panic attack.


End file.
